So I said, ‘Who is he, mother? he seems to be some Lord; am I a Lord then?’
‘A King, if the people will but know it,’ she said.
Then she knelt down by the dead body, turned it round again, so that it lay face uppermost, as before, then said:
‘And so it has all come to this, has it? To think that you should run on my son’s sword-point at last, after all the wrong you have done me and mine; now must I work carefully, least when you are dead you should still do me harm, for that you are a King—Lionel!’
‘Yea, Mother.’
‘Come here and see; this is what I have wrought these many Peter’s days by day, and often other times by night.’
‘It is a surcoat, Mother; for me?’
‘Yea, but take a spade, and come into the wood.’
So we went, and my mother gazed about her for a while as if she were looking for something, but then suddenly went forward with her eyes